I rode along rigidly; sitting up very straight, holding each of my breaths for as long as possible, and gripping the throttle so tightly that I eventually felt the bones in my right hand aching. I tried to relax my grip but couldn’t.

Of course every bone is important. But if I break my leg while I’m skateboarding later this afternoon and then rush to the doctor and ask him to please fix my broken leg and he argues that ALL of my bones are important, I would want to break HIS leg.

For some of us, pain can feel like a protective barrier. It acts like some kind of special deterrent that prevents us from experiencing greater pain. But the truth is, it could just as easily be a senseless roadblock that robs us of experiencing some of the most beautiful things ever.

I’ve been held captive by her memory for years; feeling helpless, lovesick, and forgotten. And now that this perfectly preserved image and this flawless idea of Melissa have both fallen to the floor and shattered into ugly, jagged pieces, I’m free.

So — to spell it out — I’m not transgender. I’m just a really cool girl. And technically, all girls are cool or can be cool (if they wear Vans and adore burritos), so simply put, I’m a cool girl who likes other cool girls. I’m a gay girl. What I am NOT is a butch lesbian (don’t get it twisted).